Saying Goodbye to the Road Not Taken
by Meb
Summary: Missing scenes from The Guardian


"The Guardian" Missing Scene __

** Thanks to Cal Gal, Eva, and Elbie for their help! **

  * The boy who was so attached to Marguerite was not given a name in the episode. Since the actor's name was Olivier, I've chosen to call him that in my story. Doesn't quite have the same ring as Pakim but I think it is a fitting tribute to the charming job the boy did in portraying the handsome little devil :) 
  * This takes place after they kill the plant and before they return to the treehouse.

***** *****

"Treehouses, perhaps we could teach you how to make a treehouse," Challenger suggested as he picked up Olivier.

"We can live in the trees like monkeys!" The little boy said excitedly. 

"Yes, and just like us," Marguerite answered as she reached out to ruffle his hair. The gesture was awkward, as if she was afraid the boy would reject this little display of affection. She was rewarded with a big smile from the child, admiration and awe shining brightly in his large innocent eyes. 

***** *****

"Where's Marguerite?" _That woman is never around when there's work to be done, _Malone thought with a shake of his head.

An amused smile inched upward on Veronica's lovely face as she commented, "I think I saw her heading over to the stream with Olivier." Even though all of them had to pick up the slack since she abandoned her work, the blonde found it hard to be angry at Marguerite. She had been shocked at the patience and tenderness the heiress showed Olivier. It was amazing really . . . when the dark-haired woman didn't think she was being watched she was playful and attentive with the orphan.

"Let her be, Malone," Roxton said with an odd expression. He too had noticed the change in Marguerite since her association with these children, most especially little Olivier. _Must be those maternal instincts_, he thought with a chuckle. 

Whenever the others had started to give Marguerite a hard time about the friendship that had sprung up between her and the boy, Roxton quieted them with a warning look. He enjoyed seeing her interacting with Olivier. It had changed the way he looked at her and he didn't want the others teasing his usually irritable companion out of her motherly mood. _Just one more contradictory aspect of our dear Marguerite. As if I needed any more mysteries, she has already completely fascinated me . . . _

"With or without Marguerite's help, we should be done with the village in another day or two," Challenger calculated. For the past two weeks, the explorers and older villagers had been working nonstop to build a village of treehouses high up in the jungle canopy where the children would be safe from predators. 

"I think it's time for a break," Veronica announced. "I'll get lunch started."

"I'll go find Marguerite," Roxton stated as he put down his ax.

***** *****

"Why is the sky blue?" Olivier looked at his new best friend with keen eyes and awaited the answer.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" 

"If you don't know the answer, then just say so," he retorted. 

With a tart look, Marguerite studied the boy lounging in the grass beside her. "You've been hanging around Roxton again haven't you?"

"I like him," Olivier replied thoughtfully. Then he added, "But not as much as I like you."

Marguerite was surprised to feel her cheeks burning at the boy's compliment. It was rare that anyone enjoyed her company more than the rugged hunter's. Not that she could blame them, she knew she was difficult to get along with. "That shows you have excellent taste and superior intelligence."

Now it was Olivier's turn to be embarrassed. Tucking his head down, he nervously picked at the weeds shooting up around him. He liked spending time with Marguerite. She reminded him of his mother, only funnier. 

They had gotten used to each other. Olivier knew that it made her uncomfortable for him to hold her hand when they were around her friends and she knew he loved the taste of the honeysuckle that grew near the stream. It had been their daily ritual to make a trip to the bank of the stream and talk during the worst heat of the day. 

"Will you live in the treehouse village with us?" 

Observing the hopeful look in his eyes, Marguerite bit off the sarcastic comment hovering on the tip of her tongue. She was really quite fond of Olivier and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was too young to realize that her biting comments were a defense mechanism that protected her from getting emotional over difficult situations. "I have to go back to my treehouse. All my stuff is there."

"Can't you bring your stuff here? I'll help you move it," he offered enthusiastically. He jumped up and flexed his nonexistent biceps, causing Marguerite to erupt into laughter. Pleased with himself for getting her to laugh, he fell to the ground grabbing his sides as his whole body shook from giggling.

The magical sound of Marguerite's happy chuckle halted Roxton in his tracks. He knew he should let them know he was there but he just enjoyed the view for a few seconds. A silly smile crossed his face as he saw Olivier reach out and try to tickle Marguerite's stomach. He almost envied the child his easy relationship with the heiress. _I wish she'd be that free with me._

Deciding it was time to let his presence be known, he stepped into the open and cleared his throat. The pair immediately jumped apart and Marguerite started to straighten out the wrinkles in her clothes. Olivier ran full speed and launched himself into Roxton's waiting arms and the hunter proceeded to spin him around, one hand grabbing Olivier's arm and the other holding onto his leg. 

The "airplane" game had become a favorite with all the children of the village. There were nights when Roxton and Malone could hardly move their arms for the soreness caused by countless "airplane rides." However, neither man ever refused a request for "just one more . . ."

Marguerite observed Roxton as he spun around faster and faster. _The man must have an iron stomach_, she thought as she felt herself getting dizzy just from watching. After about a minute, he finally slowed down and gently let the boy down. His hat had fallen off during the game and Olivier rushed over to pick it up. He put it on and it slipped down over his eyes. 

"Bye Marguerite, I'll see you later," he shouted as he ran blindly back towards the camp. 

"Ah, abandoned by yet another man," she joked as she went to the stream. She began to rinse her arms and face. Olivier was a great kid but he smelled horrid. _I'll have to get him to take a bath before I go_, she promised herself.

"But he left you in good hands," Roxton answered with a smirk. 

She turned to face him and arched her eyebrows but remained silent. She didn't want him to see how much she had been affected by seeing him play with Olivier. It made her realize what a great father he would be and that led to thoughts of him one day getting married. She knew he was attracted to her, that he might even harbor some feelings for her, but she didn't delude herself into thinking that he would actually want to build a future with her. He had proved recently that he wasn't as nearly as interested in her as he used to be. 

Shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny, he informed her, "Lunch is almost ready."

"Great, I'm starving," she said as she started to make her way to camp. 

Following along closely behind her, he teased, "I don't see how, you haven't done a bit of work today."

Defensively she retorted, "I find children very tedious. Just being here with these little scamps drains my energy."

"You didn't seem too drained back there by the stream," he observed in a soft voice. "You're very good with Olivier. I'm sure he'll miss you when we leave."

Not able to keep from smiling, she said, "Didn't you know? I've been invited to stay and live with him. He's even going to help me move."

For brief second, fear tore through him. _Surely she wouldn't really stay here_, he assured himself. He pictured the treehouse without Marguerite and felt a black void forming in his life. "Isn't that cozy?"

The tone of his voice made Marguerite glance back at him. _What's his problem?_ "A little too cozy for me, thank you very much."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Roxton realized how silly he was being. But his feelings gave him something to think about. He couldn't deny he had been attracted to Marguerite since the first time he saw her. They seemed to be making huge progress in their relationship until that fateful day at the bridge where they lost Summerlee. _Does she blame me for his death? Is that why she's kept her distance? _His heart still grieved over Arthur's death and he bore the responsibility for his death solely on his shoulders. _Surely she knows I'll never let anything happen to her . . ._

As much as he tried to fight against it, she had begun to occupy more and more of his thoughts. And they were more than the fantasies that had plagued him for the past eighteen months, now he had started envisioning her in other areas of his life beyond his bedroom and the plateau. He hugged these new feelings to himself afraid of what they might mean and what she would do if she knew she had power over him. He certainly didn't want her to know the terror that flooded him when he saw her about to be fed to that demon plant. 

Things had been awkward between them since his fling with Danielle. Although he was convinced that he had been under a Voodoo spell from the beginning, a small worry formed in the back of his mind. He had never been in love, but it was becoming clear that his emotions for the heiress were approaching that frightening feeling. _Could I possibly have been using Danielle to put distance between us? Or maybe just to prove to myself that I wasn't falling in love with Marguerite? Am I really that much of a coward?_ He doubted he was . . . he had never run away from a challenge in his life and Marguerite was definitely shaping up to be the greatest challenge he'd ever faced. But that aggravating seed of doubt, once planted, was not so easily uprooted.

They traveled in silence the rest of the way. As soon as they reached the camp, Marguerite went searching for Veronica. She could feel Roxton's moodiness rolling off him in waves and she didn't want to be around him. Having no idea what had made him so sullen, she was afraid she would set him off accidentally.

It surprised her that she even cared if she upset him. After all, hadn't they been at each other's throats since the first time they met? But it was those moments, few and far between as they were, when they joined together in something other than anger or pride that caused her to worry about the man behind her. His expression down at the stream flooded her memory—there had been a promise in his eyes. 

It was that hint of a promise that scared her. She didn't know what to make of it and the fact that she never quite knew what Roxton was thinking sent a shiver of unease through her. _Is he actually thinking about a future with me? Ha! Don't hold your breath Marguerite! He might just want to make good on all the teasing we've tortured each other with over the past year._ Neither possibility did much to raise her comfort level. He was unlike any man she'd ever met, brave and honest and much more handsome than anyone had the right to be. Her feelings for John were as novel as the man himself. She was sure that any relationship she formed with him— physical or emotional-- would lead to something deeper and that was what scared her most of all. It was already more than she was ready for.

__

He's probably just upset I wasn't around to help this afternoon, she thought with a shrug as she tried to shake off the last of her lingering reflections.

***** *****

Professor George Challenger sat next to the campfire on their last night at the treehouse village site. He was proud of the architectural masterpiece he had designed and he had every right to be. There were a dozen buildings connected by wooden bridges high above their heads. The hardest part had been transporting the materials from the ground to the canopy but that had been remedied by building a counter-weight system similar to the one used for their elevator at home. Any way you cut it, this was a massive accomplishment and a testament to the resourcefulness of man.

Marguerite took a seat next to him on the hollowed out log that served as a bench. Neither said anything, Challenger still marveling at their triumph over the jungle and Marguerite watching their fellow explorers giving more "airplane rides" to children squealing with delight. Even Veronica had joined in the fun, taking the smallest children and giving them a slower "ride" than the older children received.

Sensing a kindred spirit in Marguerite, Challenger opened up, "It is nice having all these children around. Makes me wonder about some of the decisions I've made in my life . . ."

"Don't tell me they've gotten to you too," Marguerite said with a little smile. She moved closer to Challenger and whispered, "I've grown rather fond of them myself . . . some of them at least." 

Challenger grinned at her confession and about the fact that she was still holding a grudge against Pakim. _She wouldn't be Marguerite if she didn't_, he reasoned. "Why Miss Krux, is there a soft spot forming in your thick hide?"

Chuckling she answered sadly, "Hardly George, but it does make you think about the road not taken."

"That it does," he agreed, an ache forming in the region of his heart. "That it does . . ."

***** *****

"Thank you for all your help," Pakim said solemnly. She took her duties as leader very seriously but she knew she had gone too far when she tried to sacrifice her newfound friends. It would have served her right if the visitors had left them to die and her guilty conscience still haunted her. "If there is ever anything we can do . . ."

"We'll be back to check on you in a few months but you have the directions to the treehouse if you need our help before then," Veronica said as she hugged the girl.

"Marguerite," Pakim said, holding out her hand.

The dark-haired woman eyed the small sturdy hand warily. She still hadn't forgotten that they all could have lost their lives because of the girl standing before her. _Girl_, she repeated to herself silently. Her mind drifted back to when she was Pakim's age. She had been alone and had no one to support her, no one to share her laughter or to listen to her fears. Misery had been her only company but, by that time, the feeling was so engrained in her heart that she didn't even recognize it anymore. _And I didn't even have dozens of children to worry about_, she thought ruefully. _Perhaps she's really not so bad after all . . . of course I'll never let her know that._

With a harried look, the heiress reached out and shook the girl's hand. Not able to stop herself, she pulled her closer and hugged her. The leader's eyes were shimmering as she pulled back from the embrace. Before releasing her, Marguerite whispered, "I know what it's like to be an orphan. Take care of yourself."

Nodding swiftly in an attempt to hide her feelings, Pakim finished saying her goodbyes. The explorers started getting their packs and weapons together. All the children were gathering to wave to them as they left.

Marguerite fought down a feeling of sadness and shame. She hadn't said goodbye to Olivier and she didn't plan to. She had never been good with goodbyes and she wasn't sure what she would have said to the boy if she had sought him out.

They were on the edge of camp when she heard a small angry voice cry out, "Marguerite!" Olivier came running up to her and said accusingly, "You weren't even going to say goodbye!"

Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, she grabbed the boy's hand and said to her fellow explorers, "I'll be right back." Seeing the distressed look on her face, Roxton started to make his way after them until he felt a hand on his arm.

"I think they need some privacy," Challenger informed him. He understood the bond between Marguerite and Olivier, even if he had never really experienced it for himself and knew that the proud heiress would not say what needed to be said if she had an audience.

Nodding slowly, Roxton stayed where he was but kept his watchful eyes pointed in the direction where she had disappeared.

***** *****

Finally reaching the gentle brook, Marguerite sank softly to the ground. Olivier stood in front of her, hurt feelings and unshed tears making his eyes glisten in the bright sunlight. 

"You promised you wouldn't leave without me! If you won't stay here, at least let me come with you."

"Olivier, I wish you could come with me but you belong here with your friends—"

"But I thought we were friends," the boy said, his voice a mixture of dejection and confusion.

Putting an arm around his shoulder and pulling him down closer to her, she explained, "We are friends Olivier. You're the best friend I've had in a long time."

"Then why didn't you say goodbye to me?"

"I don't have much experience with this sort of thing and I didn't know what to say," she explained. "Besides this isn't goodbye. We'll see each other soon."

"You promise?"

"I promise," she said with an affirmative nod. 

Snuggling closer to her, he murmured, "I'll miss you. Will you miss me?"

"You have no idea, kid," she answered in a shaky voice. "Now you better get back to the village before all the good huts are taken."

Reaching over, he picked a vine of honeysuckle and handed it to her. "Goodbye," he said as he sniffed a little. Then he ran back to the village. 

Marguerite sat there for a minute and allowed the intense emotions to run freely through her. Never once in the mad dash that was her life had she ever regretted not having children . . . at least not seriously . . . not until now. 

The men in her life, whether they were husband or lover, were not fatherly types. Even if they had been though, she had too many things she wanted to accomplish to worry about children and building a happy home. 

In a deep corner of her heart, she knew she was lying to herself. She hadn't always been hardened against the idea of becoming a mother. It had only happened after years of bad relationships and misguided loyalties. She feared the worse would happen if she ever became pregnant . . . that she would just deposit her child, her own flesh and blood, in a boarding school and blithely go on with her life without a care in the world. _It probably runs in the family_, she thought bitterly. This ache in her heart now for Olivier and what might have been was still far better than condemning an innocent little kid to a life of loneliness. _I will never do that to another person if I can keep from it!_

Sighing, Marguerite hurriedly wiped away her tears as she stood up. She made her way back to her friends who were waiting patiently where she left them a few minutes earlier. 

With a concerned look, Malone asked, "Are you all right Marguerite?" 

With a blank expression she looked at him and said, "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? Let's get going." She rushed ahead of the group and started forcing her way through the thick underbrush. The rest of the group trudged along in her wake, never guessing that there were tears streaming down their friend's face as she marched determinedly ahead of them. 


End file.
